How cute. Byleth does stop as soon as he gives his answer. That is the point- it's hard to think when you're being accosted. Watching Emet struggle is absolutely a portion of the enjoyment for him. Struggle to speak, and struggle to maintain his dignity.

But he deserves a reward for playing. So Byleth moves down to seat himself against the underside of Emet's cock, rocking against it slowly.

"You're adorable. You know you can laugh, right? A six, hmm? That's not too bad." He groans softly, grinding down on him with a little more force. "All right. Six it is."

He moves painfully slow, telegraphing where he's going to go next, letting Emet anticipate it to build tension. The next place those feathers land is under his arm, tracing haphazard patterns.

"How about this?" He hums, then abandoning the quills and using his fingers to see if he can break the man. He remains seated, and every time the man under him moves, he's treated to the conflicting sensation of delicious, wet friction. This is also part of the game.

"Hmm. I wonder what everyone would say if they knew you had such a cute weakness. The esteemed Emet-Selch."